


you & i

by corellians_only



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, F/M, Female Reader, Helmet Sex, Oral Sex, Reader Insert, Shower Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, i did not mean to become a cobb fucker but here we are, liberal use of endearments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corellians_only/pseuds/corellians_only
Summary: he's the marshal. you're the town mechanic. what's the worst that can happen?series of prompt requests originally posted on tumblr.
Relationships: Cobb Vanth/Reader, Cobb Vanth/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

You know you’re in trouble the minute he takes off his helmet. Sure, you had been able to tell that something was bothering him - the uncharacteristic monosyllables when you tried to make conversation and slamming of the door as you trailed him into the homestead both echoing in the small space.

But you didn’t know it was you that he was mad at until you saw the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes, hard & clear.

“You think that was funny, girl?” he bites out, motioning you to follow him into the bedroom. “That stunt you pulled back there?”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug off your boots and place the blaster on the table. “I didn’t say it was funny,” you replied, voice rising in your defense. “I was trying to help.”

“Help?” Cobb hisses the word, expelling it from his mouth like its poison. “You think trying to seduce the traders was helpful?” His gaze is burning now, arms clasped over his defined chest as he stares you down from across the room.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Cobb scoffs at your raised eyebrow. “We got the supplies at a lower price because they were distracted.” Distracted by you hanging off the arm of the lead negotiator, whispering subtle innuendos in their ear, that’s true. But still — it worked, and he damn well knew it.

“Come here,” is all he says instead, suddenly dangerously calm. Sighing, you comply, looking up at him with blank features. Seizing your confusion, he smirks slightly, before adjusting something on his helmet and sliding it over your head.

“Cobb,” you plead, thrusting your hands into the open space before you, accidentally pressing on his chest. “What - what are you doing?”

“You seem to have forgotten something,” he murmurs. “Something important.” A pause. “Can you tell me what that is, baby?”

Forgotten? What have you forgotten? You can’t for the life of you remember what it is; you know the blaster’s turned on to safety and the hydrospanner’s fixed and —

“No?” Cobb’s voice has dipped even lower now, plush with want. “Such a shame,” he adds, starting to undo the buttons on your shirt. “But you’ve forgotten who you belong to, pretty girl.”

You can’t see him; whatever he did made it pitch dark in this helmet but — oh god, you feel him, you feel his tongue flick out to taste your now-exposed chest.

“I’m…” you take a breath hoping to calm your senses, to still the need starting gather in your core, but the relief doesn’t come. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

His tickles your skin as he continued his exploration, hands cupping your breasts. “Oh, I know you are,” Cobb soothes, overly sweet. “But I’m afraid daddy still needs to teach you a lesson.”

—-

Everything is — everything is too much, and not enough, and later, you won’t even remember how you got here, lying on the bed, wrists wrapped in his scarf and helmet obscuring your vision.

It feels like he’s closing in on you, the way you can never quite place the direction of his voice nor anticipate where it is he’ll next place his lips, or his hands, or his tongue.

He’s taunting you, now, still even as he’s buried so deep inside of you it almost hurts to breath, telling you he wishes you could see how pretty you look for him right now, so full on his cock, if only you were a good girl

“Daddy, please,” you beg, struggling against the weight of him pressed against you hips, holding you in place. “Please fuck me, I’ve been so good, I won’t do it again, —“ your litany is cut short by a broken moan as he starts to work your clit, gathering your slick on his fingers and rubbing it in tortuously slow circles. “Fuck.”

“Is that what you need? You need daddy to fuck the disobedience out of you?” A sharp bite on your neck pushes your hips upwards, Cobb growls and holds them down again. “Say it again, girl.”

God, you need so bad it hurts, and you tell him so, promising to be so good, and take it how he wants you to, and — then there is just the feeling of him moving in you, heady and needy and almost violent intensity. Dimly you hear him ask you who you belong to, relishing the sound he makes at you breathless, “you, daddy.”

When you finally come it’s like you can’t breathe, you can’t think, it is just you and him and the waves of pleasure that he coaxes from your body and your shaking thighs, not stopping until you inadvertently kick him in the overstimulation.

You miss his own release in the process, too overcome to notice his cries until you feel come paint your chest. “Fuck, you’re you’re gorgeous,” you hear him breathe, crawling further up your body to tear off the helmet.

Dazed, still caught in bliss, you obey when he tells you to open your mouth. His fingers are rough and covered in your arousal and his come, and you moan as you suck on them, not pausing until he drags them out of your mouth and kisses you soundly.

“So good for me, pretty girl,” Cobb murmurs as he pulls away. “I knew you’d learn your lesson well.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cobb frowns as he watches you work, a lock of dusty blonde hair dripping onto his forehead, no doubt limp from the oppressive heat. If he’s not wrong, you’re limping too, moving more slowly than usual, your actions clipped with strain. 

“Sweetheart,” he calls softly as he approaches in long strides, “what’s the matter?” The helmet, tossed onto the workbench; the gloves, discarded easily, ripping away from his skin in itchy, impatient sequences of motion. 

You don’t hear him at first, intent on fixing…what was it you were doing? There’s a spanner in your hand, and the burden stills you, the weight of it pressing in your fuzzy thoughts. You were…you were…oh shit. You really can’t remember. 

Instincts flare white-hot when Cobb rests a hand on your shoulder, bare fingers curling around your frame, and you reach for the blaster in your utility belt for he wraps his other hands around that, too. He’s fully behind you now, taking advantage of your surprise and agitation to pull you into him, guiding your back to his chest. The scratchy fabric of his red scarf tickles your bare neck you shiver, forcing him to grip you tighter. 

The reprimand you deliver for scaring you is a tired thing – the words are difficult, aching things, trying to push past the stone that seems to have settled on your chest. And when he offers a soft rebuttal, stating that he did say your name, you simply sigh and sag against him. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, admitting that you must not have heard him. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. You shift slightly, displaced as he shakes his head and immediately discounts his own thought. “No, don’t answer that, pretty girl. I know you’re not.” Cobb’s hand travels upwards, catching the racing of your heart. “What’s wrong, precious girl?” 

“I don’t know, Cobb,” you sigh, a rush of exhaustion leaking into your features. “I’m just – i’m just tired. Run down, I guess? Like too much is happening, and I can’t make it make sense.” 

He hums appreciatively at your willing vulnerability, pressing a kiss to your temple in thanks. “I can understand that,” he says, steady and firm behind you. “Let’s get you home, okay? Let’s get you home, so I can take care of my precious girl.”


	3. Chapter 3

_“…and after that, I’m going to put my mouth on you.”_

A sharp whimper escapes your throat at his words, the mental image of Cobb’s head between your thighs fueling your building arousal, imagining the way his beard would scrape against your sensitive skin.

“I’m going to drink it all up, pretty girl,” the Marshal continues, gaze stern as his eyes travel the length of your bare body. “Let you drip onto to my tongue so I can taste you before I fuck you. Your pussy gets so wet for me, did you know that?”

Maker, but he’s a tease, kneeling at the foot of the bed as he watches you struggle against the tight knot of his scarf binding your wrists above your head.

“Did you know that, baby?” Cobb asks again and you mumble an affirmative, a pleading note slipping into your voice.

Satisfied, he nods once before speaking again. “I’m gonna fuck you with my tongue until you’re begging for my cock, sweet girl,” Cobb says, watching the way you bite your lip, desperate to control your reaction to his brazen filth.

“And when I’m satisfied that you really want it?” His eyes darken and the bedding shifting beneath him as he moves closer.

“Then I’m gonna fuck you into this bed, sweet girl, and you’re going to take it so good. You’re already so pretty, all tied up for me.”

You can’t help but moan aloud, tipping your head back into the sheets as he speaks. unconsciously, you buck your hips, trying to alleviate the ache in between your thighs. You can feel the effect of his words; your arousal is starting to slip down your skin and you’re desperate, desperate for anything that he will give you.

Which, as it turns out, is not much. Frowning, Cobb lunges forward, muscles rippling at action, placing his hands on your hips and stilling your erratic movements.

His rebuke is nothing less than growl, his mouth mere inches from yours as he hovers over you, the proximity driving all the oxygen from your lungs. “No. Moving.” Tightening his hold, he smirks when you gasp at the sensation, mouth hanging slack as you’re completely pinned down by his expert grip. “Take your punishment, pretty girl,” he warns, voice dipping even lower. “Or did you forget about what you did earlier?”

Your eyes slip shut at the memory, remembering how you climbed into his lip earlier that afternoon dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, kissing across his bare chest, leisurely rolling your hips against his and getting drunk on the sight of him flushed and wanting beneath you.

“That’s right, baby. You were such a tease, so now daddy has to put you in your place. Don’t worry,” he soothes, his voice still flinty as he presses a kiss to your cheek, “I’ll make sure you come around my cock, baby. Need to make sure you remember who you belong to, after all.”


	4. Chapter 4

The water isn’t as warm as you’d like, but that’s okay. Even the most ephemeral notion of showering with real water, and not a sonic, was enough to get you excited — much less the thing itself.

The small droplets dapple your skin as you rinse the suds from your body, trying to work quickly to leave enough for Cobb. He needed it even more than you, having spent days tracking down a band of Jawas for spare parts, but he insisted that you go first regardless.

You smile at his the recent memory, recalling the firmness of both his tone and his lips as they had pressed against your forehead.

“What’s gotten you so happy, precious girl?”

The words echo in the small space and the suddenness of his approach makes you jump. Cobb’s hands are strong despite the slick on your shoulders and he catches you easily, drawing you into his chest.

Pivoting slightly, his broad back shields you from the spray as he swallows your reprimand with a kiss. Chaste at first — merely a press of his lips to yours —it grows in intensity as you revel in the warmth of his mouth and the way he gasps when you slide your tongue against his lips.

Breaking the kiss, you peel away from and reach for the shampoo, squirting some of the stuff into your palm. A heady, aromatic scent fills the air and he watches you as you reach up, combing the stuff through his silver-blonde locks. Your nails scratch his scalp lightly, gently tugging on the sudsy strands. Cobb moans softly, your name a prayer on his lips as he closes his eyes in reverence.

You are awash in wonder at the sight, looking up at him with wide eyes — watching this strong man finally relax under your tender ministrations. Guiding him back under the spray, your hands resting on his chest, you take care to wash out the residue, eyeing the way the soap slides down his lean, muscled body.

The temptation strikes you and you obey, leaning forward to press kisses down his throat, his chest, and even lower until you are on your knees. His cock is already half-hard, heavy between his thoughts and aching for your touch. Your hands come to rest on his thighs as you begin to press kisses to the tip, slowly taking him into your mouth.

“Sweetheart,” you hear him moan as you hollow your cheeks, “you don’t — oh, fuck.” Cupping your cheek, he brushes strands of hair off of your forehead, plastered to your skin from the water and cursing again as you run your tongue along his length. “Just like that, sweet girl, just like that, you’re so good to me.” His encouragement goes straight to your clit, flooding you with arousal and you moan, working him faster and faster.

“I’m gonna — fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” he breathes, warning you just seconds before the milky fluid spurts into your mouth. Pulling off of him, you swallow and raise yourself, knees shaking and cunt dripping, coating the insides of your thighs with more than water.

“Come here, sweet girl,” Cobb murmurs, turning off the water with one hand and wrapping his other arm around your waist. “Let’s get you dried off, and then I can show you just how much I appreciate you.”

**Author's Note:**

> loads of shenanigans over on my tumblr (filthybookworm); feel free to come say hi!


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